Friends of the Dodohttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com
Musings on wondrous forms of lifeTue, 13 Jun 2017 01:31:54 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://s2.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.pngFriends of the Dodohttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com
Eyes Peeledhttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/06/13/eyes-peeled/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/06/13/eyes-peeled/#respondTue, 13 Jun 2017 01:28:14 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=1133]]>I’m not sure at what point I turned the corner to a full-on bird nerd. I’d always casually observed them around my parents and had definitely looked through binoculars at birds, mostly on our annual visits to Florida.

I have a vague recollection of keeping my mouth shut to avoid mockery when my parents were scoping out a pond to see if there were mergansers or wigeons or wood ducks. Ducks, other than mallards? I had honestly assumed they were one and the same. Now I can’t get enough of shovelers and hoodies and the occasional pintail. I squealed the first time I saw harlequin ducks.

I’m not sure what stage of birding I’m in, expertise-wise, but it is hard to walk anywhere without dragging along my binoculars. I’ve also begun stopping, Indiana Jones style, going “Did you hear that?” whenever I hear a new call, song, or promising rustle in the underbrush. (If it is not very much fun to walk with me now, my friends have not said anything.)

My relatively new entry to birding means that I still have weekends where I go hiking and spot 3 new species (yellow-billed cuckoo, Pileated woodpeckers, red-eyed vireo) without a ton of effort. Just the idea that there are interesting birds around has made me more aware of the ecological complexity that exists in a walk through greenery.

While not a bird, I saw this snapping turtle laying eggs on the way to work. One of the benefits of looking around for surprises on any walk, however short.

What wildlife has surprised you lately?

Female snapping turtle laying eggs. Photo by author, June 2017.

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/06/13/eyes-peeled/feed/0laurenkmoSnapping TurtleWith Legs Outstretchedhttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/05/23/with-legs-outstretched/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/05/23/with-legs-outstretched/#respondTue, 23 May 2017 22:53:33 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=1084]]>I don’t remember where I read it, but I do remember reading that most ticks die without reproducing. They don’t really move very far, just pick a spot on the top of grass and wait with a pair of outstretched legs, hoping that they can grab onto a passerby. (Although it might be a bit much to ascribe an emotion such as hope to a tick, it is semantically much simpler than a scientifically-accurate explanation.)

This behavior, reaching into the air with their legs, is called questing. The ticks can’t jump or fall from their perch, all they can do is hang on if a suitable host makes contact.

While hiking recently, I bent to tie my shoelaces and caught a brown lump on some grasses right in the middle of the trail. I saw a large tick, two legs held aloft – evoking a superhero pose, presumably waiting for an unwitting host to brush against its patient legs. I poked a little at the tick with a twig, to see how it responded. The legs reached forward to grasp it, and I flipped the tick-occupied side of the twig onto a rock off the trail. I uneasily continued on the trail.

Blurry brown lump, a tick, is towards 11 o’clock on clump of grass. (Best a phone could do.)

I have been casting about recently, prodded on by a restless feeling, making lists of my values and goals and what would comprise a life well-lived. I keep writing and thinking and going about my daily routine and waiting for change to happen to me, for an opportunity to pop up, for a crystallized vision to strike me as I doze off.

Meanwhile, years have passed.

This semi-lazy opportunism has worked for me in the past – a college brochure directing me to the midwest, an instantaneous decision over breakfast conversation that I wanted to go to grad school, working various internships that others recommended, doing a U-Turn into teaching, etc. But the magic sauce seems to have run out.

Clearly stepping past the caution tape surrounding the academic sin of anthropomorphism, I identified strongly and reluctantly with the tick. That moment with the tick made me clearly aware that I am questing in my current life, hoping that something will happen to me and move me towards my purpose, hoping that a lumbering opportunity will pass by and let me grab on with my outstretched legs.

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/05/23/with-legs-outstretched/feed/0laurenkmoTickSpring Feverhttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/05/17/spring-fever/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/05/17/spring-fever/#respondWed, 17 May 2017 00:29:36 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=1056]]>The world is bursting at the seams with birdsong.

Swirling in my run-of-the-mill anxiety, it was a relief to go outside into the greenery.

I was caught inside my own head, frenetically (but efficiently!) darting from place to place within the house – washing dishes, refreshing sourdough starter, filling the bird feeder, making hummingbird nectar, folding laundry, cleaning out the car, putting away groceries, checking the news to make sure there weren’t any additional disasters, dealing with compost, being disappointed by my decision to check the news – and I knew had to get outside, the brief window of spring already closing rapidly.

The overhead chips alert me to free-wheeling swallows, slicing through the air like dive bombers. I’ve been working like crazy to get better at distinguishing tree swallows, barn swallows, and rough-winged swallows as they cartwheel past with their clicks.

The grackles have discovered my bird feeder and argue over it with the blue jays, while the mourning doves and house sparrows selected the subtle route and hop about for the leftovers.

It was a relief to see the birds going about their business, robins and catbirds and geese. Nothing unusual this time, no male Baltimore Orioles scuffling in the treetops, no thrushes singing in the underbrush. But it was a great reminder of the remarkable world living right under my nose. (And I like to think I gave back a little, returning an earthworm stranded on the asphalt to the grass.)

Here’s to more time outside in the spring!

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/05/17/spring-fever/feed/0laurenkmoUrban Junglehttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/03/22/urban-jungle/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/03/22/urban-jungle/#respondWed, 22 Mar 2017 01:47:05 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=1035]]>I was the star producer in my own NatGeo special today – except my camera was an iPhone and my quarry was in a park.

I was walking around a neighborhood park with a co-worker and discussing the buffleheads and cormorant we’d already seen amidst floating plastic, when a flapping figure went past my vision and landed on an electric pole. I saw something bird-shaped in its talons, and yelled out in excitement, “It has a bird! And I think it’s a kestrel!” (Given its relatively small size.)

In full nerd mode, I scrambled for the binoculars by throwing my bag on the ground, ripping them from their case, and hurling the eye covers away. I was so thrilled to see a flash of blue wings and red breast that I didn’t care about the squirming prey flapping its wings in vain. I shoved the binoculars at my colleague and basically shouted, “Oh shit! It’s a kestrel!” She noted what a beautiful bird it was before politely handing back the binoculars and saying she couldn’t watch it if it was starting to eat. Fair enough, watching a flapping bird (probably a starling) having chunks torn out of it is not pleasant and elicits feelings of sympathy.

But.

I saw a kestrel make a kill and eat it! While on top of a light pole and in New Jersey’s largest city. So starling aside, it was a top 10 wildlife experience.

The cherry on top was when I heard two kestrels calling back and forth and freakin’ knew that was a kestrel call. I have been relentlessly learning birdcalls via a phone app and am therefore slightly above the level where you are unable to distinguish a bird call from airplane engine noise.

I spent the rest of the day gleefully showing colleagues pictures of kestrels and buffleheads like they were my own children who had just learned to sit up or roll over or walk.

And I will continue to keep my eyes and ears on high alert in urban settings.

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/03/22/urban-jungle/feed/0laurenkmoIMG_0374Days of Birdshttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/03/15/days-of-birds/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/03/15/days-of-birds/#respondWed, 15 Mar 2017 19:03:14 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=1012]]>When I first moved to New York City, fresh from the open air and mountain views of Colorado, the best part of my week was grocery shopping. First thing Saturday morning, exhausted from a week of crying during and after work, I would head to the Union Square Farmers’ Market or Trader Joe’s and relish the feeling of coming home with a full hiking backpack of groceries. Then, it was back to work.

If only I’d had a bird feeder near a park during that time, I would have had a more consistent source of joy, at least on the weekends.

I could have tapped away diligently at my computer and been able to look up and see flashes of red house finches, goldfinches transitioning into their namesake color, bluejays screeching their superiority, the splashy mohawk of a red-bellied woodpecker, and upside-down nuthatches snagging a seed and heading to safer perches to feast.

It’s unlikely I would have seen the orange streak of a fox unsuccessfully hunting squirrels, though stranger things have happened in Manhattan.

The snowstorm has brought a plethora of hungry birds to my backyard feeder, and a lot more joy to my daily tasks than I would have thought. Washing dishes, filing papers, and folding laundry is much more interesting, not with YouTube in the background, but with squabbling and tumbling birds going about getting a meal.

Yet another thing that humans had reserved for themselves – intentional use of fire, seems to be falling by the wayside.

Black kites and brown falcons in Australia have been documented dropping burning twigs in areas outside of the fire’s reach in order to flush out tasty bits of protein-lizards, insects, mice.

Competition is fierce at the fires, as the prey animals basically escape the flames just to meet their end in the talons of raptors.

So an arsonist streak gives these birds the chance to have the animals fleeing immolation all to themselves.

Don’t believe me? Here’s a second source. In the meantime, hats off to inventive and bold birds.

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/01/09/can-a-bird-do-that/feed/0laurenkmoSnowy Birdinghttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/01/08/snowy-birding/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/01/08/snowy-birding/#respondSun, 08 Jan 2017 23:30:21 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=935]]>There’s no such thing as too many layers when it’s 20 degrees out and snow blowing sideways. Three was the magic number – three layers of pants, three layers of tops, and wishing I’d had 3 layers of socks rather than 2. Not sure I could have fit three layers of socks in my shoes, but one is tempted by such thoughts when your toes transition from pretty cold to one notch short of painful.

Photo by author, Long Island. 2017. Gulls on a pond, including an unusual black-headed gull, visiting from Europe – presumably with his papers in order.

But, it was a beautiful day for birds!

Photo by author, Long Island, 2017.

I saw several species for the first time – common eider, horned lark, purple sandpiper, ruddy turnstones, and the highlight, 3 male harlequin ducks bobbing placidly in the icy gray waters. (There was a female harlequin duck too, but in the duck world, it’s the males that are the real showstoppers. Even the 4 harbor seals we saw barely deserve a mention compared to the stunning male harlequin ducks.)

I have been aching to see these improbable creatures. I even had a dream the night before that I had seen a huge group of harlequin ducks, and I woke up super excited to share my birding adventure before realizing that I had been tricked by my subconscious and still had to venture out into the frosty morning.

At the beach, I disbelievingly stared through the rapidly-fogging binoculars as long as I could as they dove down and popped back up in the whitecaps. The only good thing about leaving the snowy beach was that the feeling gradually returned to my abused feet. While we saw other notable birds after that part of the trip, my mind was filled with visions of harlequin ducks. I was also quickly preoccupied with figuring out who among my friends and family could be tricked into joining me in future snowy beach birding.

If reincarnation is real, I want to come back as a male harlequin duck gifted with self-awareness, so that I can revel in being the most beautiful bird around.

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/01/08/snowy-birding/feed/0laurenkmogulls_longislandatlantic_ocean_long_islandharlqeun_glennbartleyWinter Chillhttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/01/02/winter-chill/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/01/02/winter-chill/#respondMon, 02 Jan 2017 17:14:39 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=895]]>I complain unnecessarily about silly things. I especially have a tendency to complain about the cold, although now I feel a twinge of reluctance to do so, since the cold days are not as cold and the cold comes later than feels right. I would rather complain about cold than see honeybees buzzing around on a 60 degree December day.

So, to celebrate the cold (while still above historical averages), I walked around a local pond to celebrate the New Year with a two-pronged goal: see some cool wildlife and not whine about the chill and rain.

Nearby pond with a mix of mostly gulls and geese. 2017

Red-bellied woodpecker on utility pole. 2017

(An aside-the spring feels like the true new year for me, with the ground and water and air bursting with renewed life.)

I hit the jackpot for a quick winter walk at a random time of day-heard a kingfisher’s rattling call, saw a small group of hooded mergansers (best guess, no binoculars), unfortunately startled some gadwalls, and spotted a red-bellied woodpecker at the top of an electrical pole.

Hope you are starting off the New Year with some wildlife sightings!

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2017/01/02/winter-chill/feed/0laurenkmopond_winterwoodpecker_poleDon’t Look Awayhttps://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2016/12/22/dont-look-away/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2016/12/22/dont-look-away/#respondThu, 22 Dec 2016 13:11:17 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=879]]>It is hard to read about destruction, it is hard to look at images of suffering. Yet, I keep reading. Looking away and getting pulled into something else is certainly easier. And maybe someone else will actually do something. But this bystander effect means that a bloc of people who could be really effective advocates for change–at any scale–just try to keep their blinders on and continue on their path. Someone told me they just try not to think about the massive assault on biodiversity but they do work on improving their habitat near their house. And that’s vitally important.

I feel the temptation to look away, but by forcing myself to acknowledge that the plastic bag twisting in the air will end up in the waterways, and potentially in the gut of an albatross or seal or whatever marine animal, I build the necessary emotion for action. My actions are not large, and they are not much on their own, but every piece of plastic that gets picked up is one less piece of plastic in our waterways.

Here are volunteers doing vital work, cutting gorgeous gannets in sheer agony loose from plastic and synthetic materials after nesting season is over. I remember seeing gannets in Maine, beautifully large birds that turn instantly into high-speed assassins, knifing into the water with a splash that would make an Olympic diver envious.

They are glorious creatures to watch.

I will continue to look at things that are difficult, because that is fuel for action. I hope to have better ideas for environmental actions that come out of this.

]]>https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2016/12/22/dont-look-away/feed/0laurenkmoReview of the Sixth Extinction, Part 2https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2016/12/12/review-of-the-sixth-extinction-part-2/
https://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/2016/12/12/review-of-the-sixth-extinction-part-2/#respondMon, 12 Dec 2016 00:00:17 +0000http://friendsofthedodo.wordpress.com/?p=850]]>And I’m back with a second part to my thoughts on the Sixth Extinction, because the book has just stuck in my craw. I’m still mulling it over.

Extinctions seem to be quiet. Most go unnoticed. The end might be violent (see: great auk) or unassuming in the wild (see: baiji freshwater dolphin) but it is the most grievous sort of death. Humans take some comfort that they have passed something on to future generations of their ilk when they die; no such succor can be had for extinct species.

According to Dr. Anthony Barnosky, about 900 species’ extinction can be directly attributed to human cases over the last century, and around 20,000 species now are known to be at risk. The even more terrible news is that humans have killed off half of all wildlife in the last 40 years. (HHMI, 2015)

Biodiversity in the Age of Humans, HHMI 2015.

We don’t even seem to be aware of the magnitude our actions can have–seven billion is a jumbo number to try to visualize and connect down to my own measly life.

And yet, even at much lower numbers, we have been having an outsize impact for thousands of years.

As Kolbert incisively noted: “When Alroy [a paleobiologist] ran the [extinction] simulations for North America, he found that even a very small initial population of humans—a hundred or so individuals—could, of the course of a millennium or two, multiply sufficiently to account for pretty much all of the extinctions in the [fossil] record…if every band of ten hunters killed off just one diprotodon a year, within about seven hundred years, every diprotodon [large marsupial] within several hundred miles would have been gone…From an earth history perspective, several hundred years or even several thousand is practically no time at all…For the people involved in it, the decline of the megafauna would have been so slow as to be imperceptible…Alroy described it as ‘geologically instantaneous ecological catastrophe too gradual to be perceived by the people who unleashed it.’ ” (233-234)

We can perceive what we are currently unleashing, so at least we aren’t in the dark anymore. While there are a lot of players involved in the extinction game, spread all over the world, there are definitely things that can be done in our backyards.

And, for me, that’s the challenge–to not let this be such a hulking, intimidating beast of a task that I don’t even try beyond the shallowest of actions. Those actions matter, but they are not nearly enough. I will be working through different steps I can take locally to shore up all wildlife–because even species that are common are likely struggling.